


Ice Stained With Blood and My Last Words to You

by Tenebrae_Erebus



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Character Death, Goodbyes, M/M, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-02-07
Packaged: 2018-03-11 00:20:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3308636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tenebrae_Erebus/pseuds/Tenebrae_Erebus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>War. Lukas had fought, had watched as it ripped apart families and tore men from their families. However, he had never expected that his own family be ripped apart after all these centuries, had never once expected him of all people to fall at the hand of his enemy. The taste of loss is fiery and burning, and after this, Lukas doesn't think he'll ever be able to rid it from his tongue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ice Stained With Blood and My Last Words to You

**Author's Note:**

> Lukas-Norway  
> Mathias-Denmark  
> Just in case you didn't know. Anyways, consider this the first time people have died and they don't know that they will come back to life yet, yeah? Anyways, I do hope that you like it and leave a comment! I really like criticism.

"I'm scared." He had confessed, a hushed whisper into the skin of Lukas's throat as warm breath ghosted over pale, snowy skin. "Terrified. What if this doesn't work out?" The same fret that every general or strategist made the night before to someone that they loved dearly, the same fear of getting everything they had worked for demolished like that.

The only thing that Lukas could do was press a gentle kiss just beneath his ear and nuzzle against his cheek. Lukas had done this many times before, had listened to Mathias's concern for their lives with unwavering patience and now was certainly no exception.

"It'll be fine." Ah, the same words every time. Perfect and soothing, voice lilted and quiet as his fingers carded through his hair. "You haven't failed us so far. Now's no exception. We know you've got this figured out." Laying here with him, warmed by the heat of his body and the low radiance of the fire, Lukas was indeed content, but he would be lying if he said he was not afraid. He was to fight on the north front, alongside Mathias as the Dane's second-in-command, however Lukas knew all too well that they would likely be separated early on. He didn't let this fear, this crippling worry, show on his face. Mathias had enough to worry about as it was.

"It's always so hit and miss. If this doesn't go right, if there are any surprises, we could all be dead." Mathias whined, pressing his face even further into Lukas's neck. Lukas only shook his head and snorted.

"Then we won't get taken by surprise. Simple as that. Now shut up and kiss me, moron." And Mathias didn't even hesitate, wrapping his arms around the other easily and pulling him down to him, sealing their lips together as he rolled his smaller partner over onto his back.

It was a wonder that Mathias's thoughts were trailed on his last solid moments with the very man he had been planning to marry in secret just days from now as he lay here in the snow, blood seeping from a deep, lethal injury sunk into his abdomen. Yeah, he had said that he would take out the general, didn't he? And he had been so determined, so dead set on doing it, throwing his neck out there without care as he was so unwilling to let anybody else risk it.

Yet here he was, barely three meters from the cooling corpse of his enemy as he felt the cold seep into his own bones and numb his skin, blood staining the snow and ice. Dazed. He swore his vision was fading out and... His ax. Where..? Hm. He couldn't quite remember...

Far off, limp and cold, against the wall of a ruined, fallen stand point, the body of someone who seemed far more fragile than ever before lay still, eyes glassy as the warm blood that continued to seep past his lips fell into a rapidly forming pool. Dead, killed by the strength of another's advantage over his smaller, leaner stature, a snapped spinal cord against protruding stone. Quick. Painless. They would find him later, when the blood ran cold and the barest nips of frost had reached his cheeks, and Lukas would sob, as this was the loss of yet another the people he had held so dear. Berwald's paralysis would only be temporary before Emil was scooped up in his arms, and he would load his body onto the sled that they had hoped they would not have to use. The body of the Swede's partner lay just beyond the gates of the very place they had been defending, something that they had already seen as he was killed by another man, someone with just a good a shot as the Finn's own that had taken him out from his perch on top of the fortress wall. Berwald showed barely anything past his flushed face and tear tracks that Lukas had chosen to ignore, silent. The man that had killed Tino and the man that had killed Emil were both dead, yes.

But it was hard for anybody to find any satisfaction in such a situation.

So the two youngest, dead.

Two confirmed to be alive.

But the fifth? The one who had given himself the most dangerous part of the entire war plot?

Yet to be found.

And that was why Lukas was sprinting along the ledge of the highest vantage point where the general of the opposing army was last seen and the last known place of that reckless, idiotic, Dane. The crunch of snow beneath his boots as he almost slipped over ice and the sound of his lover's name ricocheting off of the sides of the fjord. He could taste blood in his mouth, rustic and warm and ignored. He must have bitten his tongue, his cheek, something so painfully insignificant in the scope of their current situation. Frozen water to his left, a steep slope to his right, he was climbing, climbing, almost to the top of the hill and-

No. Nonononono.

Splintered at the handle, the blade cracked, Mathias's ax lay in pieces, sunk into the snow.

Here, he could see the marks where their battle had taken place, deep indents in the snow where they had stepped, gouges where they had slid and slipped. Lukas could see exactly where Mathias had lost control and his weapon had broken, where he had tipped back and fallen into the snow and where the blood started... And he could also see exactly where the both of them had tumbled down the other side of the fjord, where their final moves were made and where Mathias lay not too far from the body of his enemy, sprawled out and his signature heavy, black coat swallowing the form of his body, making him look oh so small.

For a heart wrenching moment, Lukas thought he was dead. Thought that the snow around him was a little to red and that the corpse just meters away from him was already showing signs of frost kissed cheeks.

Alas, fate was not so merciful. Mathias coughed, entire body lurching weakly, and Lukas was sprinting down the slope. His feet sunk into snow, and the sweat froze to his skin painfully but...

"Mathias!"

"... N-Norge?" His voice was weak, words slightly slurred as his vowels bled into each other, tasting of defeat and fading life. Lukas slipped and skidded to a halt a little ways from Mathias’s body, panting, breath coming out of his mouth before him in explosions of mist.

Dropping next to Mathias, his hands were shaking, fingers curling and uncurling in search of something to grasp onto before finding their way into the black fabric of Mathias’s jacket. He swore, he didn’t sound as urgent as he thought he did.

“Mathias, Mathias, Mathias…” The name was rolling off of his tongue like some sort of prayer, some sort of spell to magically repair the searing agony and destructive pain of these past nightmarish hours. The Dane was barely responsive, all rolling blue eyes and unsteady, ragged breath.

“Hey Norge.” Lukas’s breath hitched, throat closing around half formed words that threatened to turn themselves into sobs and instead pulled his lip between his teeth as one of Mathias’s hands moved up to take his, squeezing weakly. “We did it right? We won?” A cough that rattled in his lungs and left him gasping.

“Shut the hell up.” Lukas was choking over his words, fingers pulling frantically at fabric in search of the source of the constantly growing amount of blood. There was so much of it… He just...

Ah.

If he wasn’t choking already, he certainly was then. It was deep, a torn open abdomen where he could see flesh and fat and muscle, the smooth glean of intestines that he was far too familiar with to be comfortable and a sob tore past his lips, grinding through his teeth, tasting of failure and the searing, fiery burn of loss. He could feel the metallic tang of his own blood swelling on his tongue, fierce and dominating.

“Mathias, just hold still and hang on a bit, will you?” He asked, using the Dane’s coat to apply pressure against it . He knew it was pointless at this point, that there was no way he could help and that there was something inevitable but in his panicked haze, he couldn’t even consider the indefinite outcome. The small yelp of pain Mathias gave, the shaky exhale and stuttered breath, Lukas wanted to yell, to break something but he couldn’t. Not with these trembling fingers and these misty eyes, this damning, destructive weight that had made it’s home in his stomach.

“Nah, it’s not gonna help, you know that.”

“God damn it, shut up you stupid _fucking_ Dane.” He could taste the salt of his tears but it didn’t register, not when Mathias was looking at him with those half lidded eyes and that small, knowing, accepting smile that made him want to throw up.

“Norge listen to me, okay?” Mathias’s voice should never have been so gentle, so quiet. Lukas could feel it, the pressure behind his eyes and he blinked them back. Always was a stubborn one.

“I’ve never listened to you before, why should I listen to you now?”

“Just as a favor? My dying last wish?” Lukas almost slapped him. How dare he say that? How dare the signature headstrong Dane simply accept his death like that? Kings were not supposed to fall without a fight. Kings were meant to be forced to their knees before the gallows, defiant glares and solid words before the noose tightened and they were nothing more than bodies that once held the world in cold hands. Kings were not ones for soft smiles and sentimental last words, the gentle twist of fingers twined with his own and the sad acceptance of death. Kings were supposed to fight, not surrender.

Mathias took Lukas’s silence as a signal to go on.

“Make sure the others stay safe.” A cough, blood staining his lips and dribbling out of the corner of his mouth. “And that Tino doesn’t get himself into messes too deep.” Always, making the wrong assumptions, always assuming the best, but god damn it why couldn’t he just do the same for himself? “Let Ice know I’m proud of him. We raised him in such a time like this and he didn’t end up as messed up as the rest of us…” He snorted and laughed weakly, suddenly unable to suppress the tremors in his body as his breathing sped up and he clutched Lukas’s hand ever so tightly.

“I will.” He almost choked on the lie. How could he lie to a dying man? Ah, right. Because more devastation and more pain for Mathias was unnecessary. Lukas raised a hand to card through Mathias’s hair, soothing as Mathias took in his face with solemn blue eyes. Mathias couldn’t help but think that Lukas looked too old for somebody so lovely.

“I love you Lukas.”

“I know.” Sniffle. Rub the back of his hand beneath his eyes.

“Promise you’ll never forget?” “So long as you don’t forget that I love you as well.” Mathias smiled weakly, vision starting to fade and his grip starting to slacken. Lukas hiccuped, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead and then to his lips before Mathias turned his head to press his face into the warmth of Lukas’s stomach, breathing stuttering and uneven as he closed his eyes, tears marking his cheeks.

“Of course I won’t, idiot.” No response. “Mathias?” Lukas could feel it, his chest constricting, the feeling of something starting to crumble as he bit the back of his hand to muffle a sob and squeezed his eyes shut, bowing his head to press against Mathias’s still shoulder. The shaking of his shoulders, the tears freezing on his cheeks and the blood dripping from the back of his hand where he had bitten through skin, Lukas was in fact a pitiful sight. Unfortunately enough, the world was not fair. The world was not fair in the fact that death was inevitable and greedy, stealing life from people who were once so great. The world was unfair in the fact that this ice ran red with blood and the last words of a dying man were that of a statement and that response fell on deaf ears.


End file.
